


Twist(er)ed

by actualgarbage



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Tumblr Prompt, a casual game of twister, cliche as HECK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualgarbage/pseuds/actualgarbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Right hand yellow” had Clarke duck under where his arm had been crossed in front of her as she stretched for a yellow two spots away from the one nearest to her. It resulted in her back being neatly tucked into his shoulder and her face way, way, way too close for Bellamy to be able to trust himself. </p><p>Bellamy barely had time to snap out of whatever trance she’d had him in and put his own hand on a yellow spot before he was told to put his right foot on green. He managed to move his leg up so his foot rested between his hands. the crooked stance he was in reminded him of the position runners waited for the gun to go off in, only they generally didn’t have cute blondes tucked under their arms before races started.</p><p>With left hand green, Clarke flipped her torso over and put her hand on a spot behind her. It was becoming increasingly clear that her strategy was to distract him and it was one hundred percent working, but fortunately Bellamy knew how to play that game, too.</p><p>Requested on Tumblr: Omg do twister or lab partners prompt for Bellarke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twist(er)ed

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure this is actually the worst- cliche'd, cheesy, and unbeta'd; the holy trinity. Oh well.

Bellamy Blake was good at parties. In the three years he’d been in high school he’d been to more than a hundred of them and hosted countless others. He dominated at beer pong, set record at quarters, and built up an almost inhuman resistance to hangovers. He was a professional by now.

Bellamy Blake was not good at girls. Well, he’s actually  _really_  good at girls-drinking wasn’t the only thing he did at parties. To clarify, he’s not good at Clarke Griffin, also known as the only girl he’s ever had more than a fleeting interest in. She was the curveball that he could genuinely say he never anticipated before graduation, but here he was, leaning against a wall at the last party before his senior year officially started, unable to even have a full conversation with Miller because watching Clarke play twister a few feet away was making him more than shaky.

“Dude,” Miller nudged him. “Snap out of it. Either go play twister or get a grip. I’m tired of watching you pine at these things, just get it out of your system already.” Miller rolled his eyes and walked away leaving Bellamy to consider his words.

Miller was right- he needed to act on whatever had been going on between the two of them, but he was wrong about getting Clarke out of Bellamy’s system. she was running far too deep in his bloodstream for Bellamy to get rid of her now.

Making a hasty decision (and one he’d most likely regret for some reason or another) he took a massive swig of his beer an set it down on a table nearby. He strode over to the twister mat just as a game was finishing.

Clarke collapsed onto the floor in a fit of giggles and it took all Bellamy had not to beam at her like an idiot because how on earth was it fair that one person could be just so- so  _Clarke?_  She was brilliant and witty, she was loyal to a fault and  tough as nails, not to mention she was fucking Gorgeous with a capital G.

Bellamy was long past screwed.

“Hey Bellamy,” a sophomore-Harper maybe?- crooned. “Do you want to join?”

“Why not,” he tried to smirk and just hoped it didn’t come off as a grimace. Clarke really threw him off his game. 

Maybe-Harper looked overjoyed at his response and Clarke seemed to perk up a little at it, though it’s likely he was just imagining it. Wishful thinking and all that.

“Glad to see you’re joining us,” She said, and maybe he hadn’t been imagining it? “I can’t wait to kick your ass at this.” Clarke was grinning dangerously and he might be totally clueless when it came to his actual feelings, but he could most certainly handle competition.

“You’re on, Princess,” Bellamy challenged.

“So who all is playing this round?” Harper still seemed chipper and somehow oblivious to the forming rivalry between Bellamy and Clarke. 

Monty, the guy Miller had been talking to joined the game enthusiastically and Monroe sheepishly volunteered to spin. The four players gathered around the mat and Bellamy kept his eyes locked on Clarke (not that it was really his choice though, he was rarely able to tear his eyes from her nowadays).

“Right foot yellow!” Monroe shouted and they all moved to the spots. Clarke looked up at him and met his gaze over Monty’s floppy hair.

Monroe called four more commands out and the two of them kept the stares steady, only breaking them to briefly readjust their positions. 

Bellamy was certain that under any other circumstances he would turn to rubble under her blue, blue sight but he held strong with  _winwinwin_  turning over and over in his head. He anchored his hands and feet to the floor with a driving motivation he’d never come close to before.

“Left hand on Blue,” Monroe sounded a bit bored at this point, but then Harper slipped while trying to move and Bellamy was entranced by the way Clarke forgot about their staring contest to toss her head back and just laugh as Harper let an ungraceful yelp out with her collapse.

Bellamy watched golden-white hair shine under the dim lights of whoever’s basement the party was in and had to double check his stability on the twister board. At some point he must have started laughing, too, because he was finding it kind of hard to stop.

 _Pull yourself together, Bell, Clarke’s just a girl and more importantly she’s not interested._  

He got his breathing somewhat under control and checked his footing. He raised his head back up to find that Clarke’s competitive glare was now a smile, the challenge was still there in her eyes, though.

Bellamy refused to lose just because Clarke was distractingly perfect for him, and so he matched her look again and the game started back up. Before too long, he found himself much closer to Monty than he ever thought he would be and his stomach hurt from laughing.

It was the right foot red that pulled Monty down and he came very close to taking Bellamy with him but managed to slither off the board underneath Bellamy and Clarke, allowing them to maintain their precarious positions.

“And then there were two,” Clarke gave him an almost feral look and any lightness that had filtered into the game left. this was a full on battle.

“I don’t know if you can play twister to the death, but I intend to find out,” was his retort, and  _really, Bellamy?_   _Out of all the things you could have said you chose to threaten her life? Great thinking, dumbass._

“Left hand blue!” Harper yelled, having taken over for Monroe.

Bellamy decided to go for intimidation as his war strategy. He picked his hand up and put it on the same blue spot Clarke had just placed her much smaller one. Their wrists were crossed and his thumb was pressed up against hers.

Clarke looked from their hands, her face much closer to his than it had been a moment ago.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play it, huh?”

He answered with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Right hand yellow” had Clarke duck under where his arm had been crossed in front of her as she stretched for a yellow two spots away from the one nearest to her. It resulted in her back being neatly tucked into his shoulder and her face way, way,  _way_  too close for Bellamy to be able to trust himself. 

Bellamy barely had time to snap out of whatever trance she’d had him in and put his own hand on a yellow spot before he was told to put his right foot on green. He managed to move his leg up so his foot rested between his hands. the crooked stance he was in reminded him of the position runners waited for the gun to go off in, only they generally didn’t have cute blondes tucked under their arms before races started.

The next few calls required him to manuever as best he could, but Clarke’s hair (that smelled like an indescribable  _good-_ he had no clue what kind of shampoo smelled this much like heaven) kept getting in the way of his vision.

With left hand green, Clarke flipped her torso over and put her hand on a spot behind her. It was becoming increasingly clear that her strategy was to distract him and it was one hundred percent working, but fortunately Bellamy knew how to play that game, too.

She was still facing to her right and Bellamy used the opportunity to take his left hand and drag it up from her collarbone to below her ear and push her hair over her shoulder. He heard her stop breathing, and smirked to let her know that he’d noticed.

Bellamy leaned in close to her using his hand’s placement on its spot as an excuse for proximity. “Your hair was getting in the way, Clarke,” he said lowly and clearly in her ear.

The breath she’d been holding left her shakily and Bellamy felt something akin to triumph fill his chest.

It left him in a hurry when right hand red had Clarke stretching beneath him to reach her hand behind her, and “accidentally” skimming her chest against his own. He followed her movements as quickly as he could grip back onto his sanity.

Looking down at Clarke, with his arms pinned on either side of her he could honestly admit that a game of twister was not how he’d planned on ending up in this position with her, but he was in no way complaining.

The tension left in the few inches between them was palpable and electric and Bellamy’s heart rate was far past the point of no return. His arms and legs were getting shaky and only half of that was from holding himself up for so long, because here was  _Clarke_  and his mind was going at half speed just from looking at her. Any of the buzz that he might have had from the beers earlier in the night evaporated- hovering over Clarke and a game of twister was the most sobering thing he could think of.

Their intense stares only held for a few more seconds before Harper called out  “Right foot yellow!” and panic crossed Clarke’s face. There was no way in hell either of them could get to that position. Unfortunately there was also no way in hell Bellamy would lose this, and if he  knew anything about Clarke, she felt the exact same way.

He could see her brow furrow in calculation for a moment before something akin to mischief crossed her features. The eyebrow he raised in question at her was answered with a quirk of her lips.

“Together?” she breathed and his heart stopped and sped up at the same time.

“Together,” he answered.

Swiftly he lifted an arm and wrapped it around her waist before flipping them both on the mat so she ended up on top of his chest.

A group of shouts rang out in the crowded basement and Bellamy hadn’t realized the game had drawn a crowd, but it made sense. He and Clarke had been rivals since almost pre-k and there she was, laying on his chest and laughing with a brilliant smile that he couldn’t help but mirror. He wrapped his other arm around her and held her while they beamed like idiots at one another.

Her skin felt like fire everywhere their bodies touched. One of Clarke’s hands was laid gently on his chest and the other was braced on the floor by his head. A golden curtain fell around their faces and against his better judgement he took a hand up to tuck it behind her ear, his fingers lingering perhaps a second too long at her jaw. It took everything in him not to kiss her right then and there.

But Bellamy Blake had a reputation to uphold and Clarke Griffin was far too good for him, so he let his arm go back around her waist and sat the two of them up. 

He wanted to say something to her, finally let  her know that she’d taken over his thoughts irreversibly and that he’d give anything to be something more to her than just “Blake the asshole,” but there were too many people around to let his guard down, so he’d just enjoy the brief moment between them.

The shy grin she gave him as she gently unfolded herself from on top of him, though, told him that senior year might not be his worst.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Feelings?  
> I wrote the [horrible] ending the way I did because the request mentioned lab partners and I thought, hey, maybe I could write a sequel to this and do both. I'll only write the sequel though if you guys liked this one enough for me to continue it though, because I'm feelin' kinda blah about it tbh.  
> So as always, any feedback is more meaningful than you will even begin to know, and you can find me on [Tumblr](bellarkemorelikebaellarke.tumblr.com).  
> XOXO


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